


House Parties and Haunted Houses

by SamJoinedtheReconCorps



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: America's gotta stop letting people be handsy, Confessions, Costumes, Fluff, France is kind of a dick, Halloween, Haunted House, House Party, I swear I'm done now, I'm Sorry, Italy is too cute, M/M, Memories, NOW i'm done, Piano, Plots, Some angst, Spain/Prussia/France for the mastermind win, Swearing, but mostly just wants Britain own up to shit, gets resolved tho, last three characters only mentioned, last two ships only mentioned, lots of scaring, okay i'm done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 03:22:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5114144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamJoinedtheReconCorps/pseuds/SamJoinedtheReconCorps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>America's house party takes a backseat when Prussia and Spain decide to invite a few countries back to Spain's mansion, which they've converted to a haunted house. Isn't it funny how sometimes under times of stress people confess their feelings?</p>
<p>Heck yes, it is that kind of fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Haunted House Sounds Fun, Right?

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit just in time for Halloween! 
> 
> Okay I'm absolute garbage but I worked really hard on it I hope you guys like it enjoy and Happy Halloween!

             “Italy, are you sure you should be eating before ve even get to America’s party?”

       “But I’m dressed up as a chef, Germany! A chef always has to taste their food!” Italy exclaimed, shoving another spoonful of pasta into his mouth.

           “You only dressed up like that so you could eat pasta, ya?” Germany asked, sighing once he got Italy’s enthusiastic nods between pasta bites. He turned back to the mirror and regarded his costume. It was Germany’s first time celebrating Halloween (a holiday that America insisted all the other countries participate in as a part of “World Bonding”) so he was a little nervous about dressing up and hanging out with the others. He was dressed up as a knight, complete with some “kick-ass” armor as America had dubbed it and an actual ancient sword that Japan had somehow managed to procure - however, Germany had forgone the helmet so that he could better appreciate his surroundings. He checked the clock above the mantel, noticing that if they left at that moment, they’d arrive at a reasonable time to America’s party. “C’mon Italy, let’s get going.”

           “Okay!” Italy grinned, trying to tame his unruly curl without success. Germany smiled. Whilst Italy was a hopeless idiot it was sort of… _endearing_.

            _Get a hold of yourself, Germany_ , he chastised, _you’ve just taken care of Italy for so long, and he’s your best friend – that’s vhy you feel affectionate towards him_. Excuses, excuses, Germany knew that, but hey, Germany was an avid believer in denial.

           “Excuse me, vhat did you say?” Germany inquired, not having quite caught what Italy had been babbling about.

           “Will you let me drive the car?”

“No.”

* * *

 

           “Dude, this place looks like wicked-awesome!”

         “America, don’t you have a more eloquent way to express yourself?” Britain asked, strewing the last few cobwebs around America’s living room.

          “Britain, don’t be like that!” America pouted, throwing an arm around Britain’s shoulders, “loosen up so we can have some fun!”

           “I am loose!” Britain scowled, shaking off America, “I just don’t see the point in talking like a moron.”

          “That frown doesn’t say you’re loose,” America teased, completely ignoring Britain’s insult. Britain threw America a glare, to which America just laughed.

           Then the doorbell rang.

           “Guests are here!” he clapped, turning to run to the door but abruptly stopping and turning to Britain a little sheepishly.

           “What is it?” Britain spat.

           “Well, dude, I was just wondering,” he began, shuffling from foot to foot, “how do I look?”

           “Fantastic,” Britain deadpanned.

           “Really?” America asked, brightening up.

           He’d never been like that before, insecure about how he looked. It was strange, so Britain decided to help boost the poor guy’s self-esteem. “Great, heroic, free – like the Star Spangled Hero himself.”

           America seemed to regain his usual confident air, “Well, I mean, I am America. It’s only right that I’d be Captain America.” Striking a heroic pose and flexing, he hoisted his shield to his chest and raised his other arm, “I’m perfect at being the hero!”

          “Yeah, yeah, you’re the hero, we know,” Britain mumbled, walking past America and getting the door, seeing as America was now too busy admiring his heroic aspects to remember that guests had arrived.

          “Britain!” France exclaimed, stepping over the threshold and pulling Britain into a hug.

          “Please let go this instant,” Britain huffed in annoyance, wrenching himself from France’s grip. “And what are you even dressed up as?”

          “Isn’t it obvious?” France began, “I’m dressed as the stereotypical representation of a French man.” Which he was. France was wearing a long sleeved, black and white striped turtle-neck with a red scarf and black beret. He even had a baguette in his hand. “I look nothing like this though – I don’t know where these ridiculous stereotypes come from.” He swung an arm around Britain’s shoulders, “I am obviously much sexier in real life.”

          “You keep telling yourself that,” Britain mumbled, smacking France’s arm off him.

          “Yo, France!” America called, rounding a corner and appearing at the entryway, “Ready to have a rockin’ party?”

          “Of course,” France began, smirking at America before giving him a once over. “Well, Mr. America, someone’s really working the spandex.”

           America blushed slightly and covered himself a little with his shield, not really sure how to take France’s comment. “It comes with being Captain America.”

           “It suits you,” France purred, melting away from Britain’s side and winding up at America’s, throwing an arm across his broad shoulders, “And you’re built for the costume, too. Impressive.”

          “I do work out,” America conceded, cracking a smile.

          “Which is why you have more muscle than brain,” Britain coolly remarked. He hadn’t meant to sound so scathing – _especially_ not to America – so when the look of hurt flashed before America’s face he felt a pang of guilt.

          “Don’t mind him,” France crooned, “he’s just jealous he’s a scrawny little pirate while you’re over here looking heroic.” He smirked, glancing at Britain from where he stood latched onto America’s side.

        _What the hell was France playing at?_ Britain thought, clenching his fists at his sides angrily, _Why was he so blatantly flirting with America_ and _shoving it in my face?_ France was a flirt – no one denied that - but right now he was acting especially sultry with America. It made Britain feel like he was baiting him. Which seemed to be exactly what he was doing, although it wasn’t about their costumes; France’s behaviour towards America was making Britain feel -

          “I actually think Britain looks really nice.”

          There were a few beats of silence as Britain’s train of thought was completely derailed and he realized it was America who’d said that; only then was he able to splutter a feeble, “What?”

           “Yeah,” America smiled, scratching the back of his head. He pointed at him, “I mean, you look tough and cu– really cool.”

           “Thanks,” Britain mumbled, feeling himself begin to grow pink. He looked down at himself: at his pirate costume, his brown boots, his black pants, his beige shirt with the top two buttons undone, his leather belt strapped at his waist where he had his sword, and his brown captain’s coat. He’d just looked through some of his things and put the costume together out of his stuff.

           France observed the little exchange, amused, feeling as if the two idiots in front of him were going to make it harder for him than he thought. _Good thing I’ve got help_ , he mused. Yawning, he pulled away from America, “You weren’t around when he was a real pirate.” He grinned at Britain, “Wait till poor Spain sees you – he’s going to have some serious war flashbacks.”

           “Oh, shut up, France,” Britain sighed, ears still red from America’s compliment. A sudden gust of wind blew in through the open door, reminding Britain that he’d never shut it. He turned and grabbed the knob, pushing the door closed, when a giant furry paw appeared, stopping the door in its tracks. “What the hel-“

            The door was thrown back to reveal a giant bear on its hind legs. Britain scrabbled back and America ran forward, putting himself between Britain and the bear as he shouted, “Britain get back - I’ll take him!”

            America raised his shield as the bear raised its front paws – _and took off its head_.

           “It vas getting very stuffy in there,” Russia smiled, shaking his head to rid himself of the muggy feeling.

          “Russia…you dressed up as a bear?” France finally choked out after a few seconds of shocked silence, hand at his chest as if he were trying to keep his heart in his ribcage.

         “It is a costume party, no?” he asked quizzically.

         “Yeah, yeah it is, buddy,” America laughed, relieved that he didn’t have to fight an actual bear. “C’mon in.”

         Russia walked in and shut the door behind him. “Did I frighten you?” he asked, noticing how pale the other three were.

         “A little, mmhm,” Britain confirmed, trying to calm his nerves, “Why are you a bear though?”

        “Oh,” Russia began, “it’s because Belarus told me she’d been invited.”

        “Yeah, I invited everyone,” America affirmed, “it’s supposed to be a party for all the countries to come and have some fun.”

         Russia grimaced slightly, “Vell, I am planning on having fun. That is vhy I vore this costume.” He donned on the bear head, “Vith this on, Belarus vill never know I’m here, so she von’t bother me! Clever, huh?”

         “Pretty smart, I guess,” France agreed as he walked over to the snack table and began sampling the foods.

         There was another knock at the door, which America went to get. He came back with Spain, Prussia, Canada, and Sealand. Spain was a matador, Prussia was a storm trooper, Canada was dressed as a Iron Man (prompting America to want to take a picture with his brother as they had inadvertently “matched costumes”), and Sealand was dressed as a sailor (not much of a change there).

        Spain whimpered as soon as he saw Britain and hid behind Prussia. “Um, what’s wrong Spain?” Prussia whispered, looking over his shoulder at the cowering Spaniard.

        “He used to bully me dressed like that,” Spain quivered, pointing at Britain.

         Britain sighed as he heard and stood up from where he’d been seated, approaching Spain cautiously. “Look, this is only a costume. I’m sorry if it brings back some nasty memories but I promise I won’t hurt you – we’re friends now, aren’t we Spain?” Britain assured gently, not wanting to cause the Spaniard any fear.

         “Y-yeah, you’re right,” Spain stuttered out from behind Prussia, “but it’s still a little scary to see you like that.”

         “C’mon Spain,” Prussia smirked, winding an arm around Spain and nudging him forward, “let’s grab a few drinks and have some fun – even though I guess you’re already having loads of fun, what with you being in the Halloween spirit with being scared and all.”

         “Haha, very funny,” Spain deadpanned.

         Prussia leaned in and whispered to Spain, “Don’t forget, we’ve got a job to do. We didn’t decorate your house for no reason.”

         Spain nodded and they both left for the snack table.

* * *

 

         After the first few guests showed up, more and more people began to trickle into America’s house until it was overflowing with countries mingling and dancing. The music had gotten so loud that it was hard to hear each other without shouting, which was why no one really heard the knock on the door signaling that the last guests had finally arrived.

        Prussia answered the door and found a frustrated Germany scolding Italy.

        “This is the last time I give you the task of navigator,” Germany huffed.

        “But-but, Germany!” Italy pouted, “Everything looked the same on the map!”

        Germany pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, “You didn’t pay any attention to the map reading lessons I gave you, right?”

        “Nope!” Italy grinned, “I’m a-sorry Germany, it’s just that I was so hungry when you were teaching me about that.”

        “It’s okay,” Germany sighed, “at least ve’re here now.”

        It was then that the two guests noticed Prussia standing at the door, holding it open for them to come in.

        “Thank you, Prussia!” Italy sang, skipping inside.

        Germany watched Italy disappear into America’s house before turning to Prussia. “Thank you, brother.”

        “You’re welcome, little bro,” Prussia smiled, “I see you have Italy with you. Did you pick him up?”

        “Pick him up?” Germany snorted, “Of course not, the clumsy man stayed over at my house. It took every threat in my arsenal to get him out of my bed this morning.”

        “ _Your_ bed?” Prussia questioned, eyebrows raised. “You must be a lucky man.”

        “It’s not like that,” Germany began explaining, sounding a little downtrodden as they made their way into the house. “Italy just likes to sleep in my bed. He tends to get nightmares.”

        “So he just sneaks into your bed?”

        “Not anymore. He used to sleep in the room next door and sneak in whenever he had nightmares, but now he just sleeps with me,” he finished.

        “Is that so…” Prussia mused.

         Just then a short girl in a blood-stained wedding dress ran up to the two. “Have you seen Russia?” she asked frantically.

         “I just got here, Belarus, so _nein_ , I have not seen him,” Germany answered.

         “Where is my future husband!” Belarus demanded, stomping her foot. Suddenly, there was a peal of laughter that was unmistakably Russia’s. Belarus turned and spotted him laughing with China. “There you are!” she squealed with terrifying glee.

         “Uh-oh,” Russia gulped, turning pale. “I’m so sorry, please excuse me,” he apologized to China before dashing off with his bear head under his arm and Belarus in hot pursuit.

         “Oh, Germany, you are finally here,” Japan commented, approaching Germany and Prussia with a drink in hand, “I told you the sword would go nicely with the knight armor.”

         “I know. Thank you, Japan,” Germany smiled, “Have you been here long?”

         “Not too long, no,” Japan responded, “but I hear a few countries will be going over to Spain’s home to see how it’s been redecorated as a haunted house.”

         “We’ve only been waiting for you, actually,” Prussia continued where Japan left off, “I’ve been helping Spain all week so that the house could be perfect and scary for you guys! So – what do you say? Are you coming?”

         “I don’t think I have much of a choice,” Germany sighed, watching Italy bouncing at Spain’s side as they made their way over to them, cheering, “Haunted house! Haunted house!”

         “Excellent,” Prussia grinned, “Now all we need is – ah, there they are!”

         “We’re going to a haunted house? Oh, this is going to be so cool!” America gushed as France led him over to the group with an obviously angry Britain in tow.

         “France, is it really necessary to be all over America? You could have just told us to come over here,” Britain muttered.

         “Do I sense something in that tone of voice?” France laughed, “Jealousy, maybe?”

         Britain felt as if he’d missed a step going down the stairs. _What? He couldn’t possibly kno-_

         “Don’t worry, I’ll give you some attention later,” France smirked seductively.

          _Of course not. Obviously France would think I was jealous that America was getting all of_ his _attention._ “Don’t be daft. It’s just that I highly doubt America wants you clinging to his side all night.” The three joined the group congregated in the hall, ready to go to Spain’s.

         “It seems like we’re all here!” Prussia clapped, giving Spain a mischievous smile, “Time to head out!”

         “No! Vait! Vait!” a voice called out from the other extreme of the living room. They all turned in time to see a costume-less Russia threading his way through dancing countries.

         “Hey man, where’s your costume?” America called out.

         “I gave it to the Baltics, that way Belarus vouldn’t be chasing me anymore as she’d still be looking for the bear,” Russia explained. “You said ve vere leaving, no? Let’s go!”

* * *

 

         “Estonia? I think it’s your turn to put on the bear costume,” Latvia whispered.

          There was a loud screech outside the door, “Russia! Husband! Where are you?”

         Estonia shook his head in fear. “Let’s hope I can keep her busy for a while.” There was a loud bang and cackling as Belarus continued to prowl outside the second floor rooms.

         “I’ll try to do my best to distract her later,” Lithuania promised as Estonia donned the dreaded bear head, “Let’s just hope Russia will do something nice for us later.”

         Suddenly, the door burst open, bathing Lithuania, Latvia, and the bear costumed Estonia in light from the hallway. “Husband!” Belarus grinned, “Oh, how I’ve missed you!”

* * *

 

         “You’ve really outdone yourselves,” Germany conceded, walking into Spain’s house and admiring the decorations.

         “It’s all thanks to Prussia, really,” Spain smiled, “he was the one who came up with all of this.”

         “Aw, so sweet,” Prussia grinned, helping Spain light some of the torches and candelabra that lined the walls and adorned the tables. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling and dust lined most of the furniture, giving Spain’s manor an old and unused air.

         Upon reaching Spain’s living room, Spain and Prussia addressed the countries and began to explain the directions on how to get through the haunted house.

         “It’s a scavenger hunt!” Spain exclaimed, “All you have to do is find the skeleton keys to get out of the house!”

         “You’ll be working in couples, with a flashlight,” Prussia continued, opening a box that was sitting on Spain’s coffee table and showing that it contained a couple of flashlights. “As you’re looking for the keys, you’ll also have to make sure that we don’t find you, because then you’ll automatically lose the game. So, what do you say? Care to have some fun and try it out?”

         “Oh, yes! Yes!” Italy squealed, “It’ll be so much fun!” He took a hold of Germany’s arm, “We’ll be a couple, won’t we Germany?”

         “Sure,” Germany agreed. Trying to hide his light blush, he added with a sigh, “Someone has to keep you going, so it might as vell be me.”

         “Hurray! Thank you, Germany,” Italy gushed, “And just-a you wait! We’ll have so much fun!”

        Germany began to tease Italy, “You sure you von’t get scared? It is a haunted house after all.”

         “That’s why it’s great you’ll be with me,” Italy said, throwing himself into Germany’s arms, “All I have to do is hug you and I know I’ll feel better!”

         Prussia shot Germany and Italy a small smile before he turned and winked at Spain. _These two are so hopeless_ , he thought, _it’s the least we could do to help them get together._

         America had immediately rushed forward and grabbed a flashlight. “I’m so totally in!” he grinned excitedly.

         “Now that’s the spirit,” France smiled. “We’ll be a couple right?” he asked, looping his arm around America.

         “Um, su-“ America began uncertainly, but was cut off by Britain.

         “America’s my partner, thanks,” he stated coldly, coming around the two and plucking France’s arm from America’s side. Britain just could _not_ stand seeing France hanging off America for one more second.

         “You seem awfully certain America’s willing to be your partner,” France remarked, withdrawing from the two and going over to talk to Russia and Japan.

         That made Britain get a little nervous. Maybe America didn’t even _want_ to be his partner, what with how mean Britain always was to him. He turned, suddenly shy, towards America and asked, “Would you – ah, mind if we were a couple?”

         “’Course not, dude,” America smiled, a bit too softly to be normal. “I’d actually really like it if we worked together.”

         Britain could feel himself begin to blush furiously, but thanks to the dim lighting it wasn’t very noticeable.

         “I see pairs have been made,” Spain began, tossing a flashlight at Germany seeing as America already had one and tossing one to France who was with Russia and Japan, “You guys’ll both go up different flights of stairs to keep from running into one another. There are a few little things along the way, like matches to light the torches to make it easier to see where you’ve been. The keys are hidden around the house though – and as soon as you find a key you’ll just head back here!”

         Prussia sauntered to the front of the group and grinned, “In other words, let the scaring begin!” He clapped, and suddenly all the candles that had been lit were snuffed, plunging everyone into darkness.

 


	2. Fright at Close Quarters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group starts to have fun scaring America and Britain, shoving them - quite literally - in a tight space.
> 
> Germany and Italy though, now there's a toughie...but what's that? Prussia's got a plan?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here's chapter two, at 3:30 in the morning
> 
> Hope you guys like it!

      “Germany! Germany!” Italy called out, reaching for where he knew Germany would be.

      “ _Ja_ , Italy, I’m here,” Germany replied, taking a hold of Italy’s wandering hand and pulling him a little closer – so that Italy could be reassured, it wasn’t like Germany _wanted_ him that close or anything.

      America clicked on his flashlight and shined it around the living room. “Okay,” he mumbled, “Germany, Italy,” he turned and found Britain with the flashlight, “Britain,” he shined the light towards where Prussia and Spain had stood, but they were nowhere to be found. Japan, Russia, and France were also gone, the dust just barely settling where they’d left. “Where did everyone else go?”

     “Prussia and Spain are probably somevhere in the house, getting ready to scare us,” Germany answered, clicking on his own flashlight and shining it around before shutting it off. “And the others have probably gone ahead to find the key.”

     “Oh, that bastard!” Britain growled, “He’s gone on ahead so that his group’ll win! That’s just like France too, the little cheat.”

     “I thought this wasn’t a competition? Isn’t there more than one key-“ America began.

     “America, c’mon,” Britain interjected, not even listening to America’s reminder that there were, in fact, multiple keys, “Let’s just beat France and get this over with. I won’t give him the satisfaction of beating me.”

     He began to stomp off with America in tow, and in extension was being followed by Germany and Italy. They reached the foot of the staircase, and began to tromp up the steps until they came to a fork – the staircase split, going to the left and to the right.

     “I guess ve’ll go left,” Germany mused, knowing this was where they would split up.

     “Okay, yeah, good idea,” Italy added, beginning to follow Germany up the steps as he turned on their own flashlight.

     “Then we’re going right,” Britain commented, watching Germany and Italy’s retreating backs as they neared a corner and then disappeared.

      America poked him lightly, “Seems perfect, since America’s always right!”

      Britain almost cracked a smile, “Whatever you idiot, let’s just get through this before Spain thinks about getting revenge over my stupid pirate phase.”

 

* * *

      “So you’ve recruited us for what, exactly?” Japan inquired after having escaped through a hidden doorway in the living room with Russia, France, Prussia, and Spain after France had informed them of a “plan” that was to be set in motion.

      “You have noticed the way Germany and Italy – especially Germany, bless my baby brother – have been skirting around their feelings, right?” Prussia asked in turn.

      Russia glanced over at Japan, seeing that he was equally as unaware as he was about their current recruitment, but nodded to answer Prussia’s question nonetheless. Italy was always affectionate with everyone, but it was different with Germany. It wasn’t just him being nice and sweet, it was obvious that Italy _felt_ something for the intimidating man. As for Germany…it was getting harder and harder to ignore the soft looks and sweet smiles that softened his features whenever he looked at Italy. So, yeah, it was pretty obvious.

      “And have you noticed the way Britain and America are always looking at one another, with those big trusting eyes and America’s not-so-well-disguised compliments and Britain’s not-so-cutting remarks?” France pressed.

       Japan thought it over, glancing to the side and seeing Russia nodding in agreement. Germany and Italy’s feelings for each other were pretty obvious to spot. As for America and Britain… well, scratch that, it was fairly obvious too. It was true that it seemed as if both countries always had a soft spot for each other, but recently it had evolved into something more. Britain was no longer as cold and snarky with America as he’d usually been, and America wasn’t even trying to hide his unabashed admiration for Britain. It was kind of sweet, aside from the fact the neither of them realized that the other probably felt the same, even if it did manifest itself in different manners. Plus, Britain and America tended to sleep talk, and about 75% of the time they’re mumbling each other’s names in their sleep. Japan could feel himself nodding in agreement as well.

     “So, doesn’t it seem like the logical thing to try and get them together?” Spain smiled.

     “Wait – are you trying to say that this whole ‘haunted house’ thing is a ruse to get Germany and Italy and Britain and America together?” Russia asked.

      Spain, Prussia, and France nodded in unison, completely excited that Russia and Japan seemed to be catching on fairly quickly.

     “Plus, the whole ‘don’t let us catch you’ part makes sure that America, Britain, Italy, and West all get into some pretty tight spots with each other as they try to hide from us. So, what d’ya say?” Prussia grinned, bouncing on the balls of his feet, “Wanna help or not?”

      Japan and Russia exchanged a glance and nodded. It seemed like the only thing that would get their friends to see what was going on and set them on their paths to happiness. Any friend would do it to see their friends happy.

       But the idea of _scaring_ them into admitting their feelings… well, that just made things a whole lot more fun.

       “I do know about a few things America is especially afraid of,” Japan admitted with a small smile.

       “And I could do something to help frighten them – like bar a door to prevent their passage or lock them in somewhere,” Russia volunteered.

       “Perfect,” France grinned, pulling Japan away and off towards some place in the manor to get the plan into motion, “and what exactly makes America scared?”

       “Big guy,” Prussia clapped a hand on Russia’s shoulder, “I’m actually gonna need your help moving something. A piano to be exact –“

       “Yes, and it’s mine so please do be careful with my baby,” a slightly nasal voice called from somewhere in the dark.

       “Ah, you’re here!” Spain exclaimed, happy that their final ally was there.

       “Sorry I’m late,” Austria grumbled, plucking a few stray spider webs that had clung to his cape. He straightened himself and readjusted his Dracula costume. “But this one,” he jerked his thumb back at another individual who stumbled in behind him, “kept pestering me about why I was trying to sneak away from the party.”

        “I was only making sure that you weren’t going to do something stupid,” Switzerland said, dusting his blue Link tunic off. “Just be happy I convinced Liechtenstein to stay at the party to have fun.”

        Austria shrugged, “Switzerland was very persistent, so I decided to tell him about the plan, and he seemed to have agreed to help.”

        “Although I do not tend to choose sides,” Switzerland shrugged, “if it means that these four will be less likely to absentmindedly think about their feelings during world meetings; then I’m in. And, Germany can probably make sure that Italy keeps his damn pants on.”

        Spain turned to Prussia with barely suppressed glee. This plan of theirs just might work.

        “It’s settled then,” Prussia said, drawing their attention back to the plan, “now let’s just go to the top floors and get the piano situated.” He turned to Russia with a smile, “And you know what, I may just have to take you up on that offer to barricade a room or two.”

        “Well, this way then!” Spain called, already leading the way down the hall and up through the secret paths of his manor.

* * *

 

         “Abstract, huh?” France mused, keeping an eye on America and Britain from the many peepholes obscured by plants and paintings from the outside.

         “Yes,” Japan confirmed, “but not the abstract per-say… more like, America is frightened by the mere _idea_ of something scary.”

        France turned to Japan, “Elaborate please, that way we can really crank this party up.”

       “Look,” Japan explained, “we just can’t give America a concrete enemy, or, in this case, something concrete to scare him, because then he’ll just have a challenge to face.” France stared at Japan blankly, “What we have to do to scare America is use noise and items just outside the peripheral vision. That will keep America scared. The idea, not the thing itself: the suspense, the anticipation, not the scare.”

“Oh,” France grinned, looking back into the peephole and just managing to catch a glimpse of America and Great Britain’s retreating backs, “so that’s what it’ll take.”

* * *

 

            America swung the flashlight left and right, sweeping down the hall and illuminating the torn portraits and tarnished wallpaper. _They really went all out with these decorations,_ America thought.

           “Pretty scary décor,” America pointed out, albeit a little stupidly he may admit, trying to start a casual conversation since Britain and he hadn’t talked much.

           “Of course it’d be scary,” Britain mumbled back, keeping up at a quick pace behind America, “they’re trying to _frighten_ us, remember?”

           Feeling like a complete idiot, America only nodded. Of course Britain would have noticed the frightening aura that aimed to scare them. _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ America berated. He’d only wanted to keep a conversation going with Britain because he felt a lot more at ease when he heard his voice; however he didn’t want to start another conversation and just look like a dumbass, so he stayed quiet.

           They walked around in silence for a few more seconds when suddenly there was the sound of a muffled thump. America stopped and Britain plowed right into him.

           “America, what in the wo-“

           “Shh,” America breathed, putting a finger to his lips. He shined the flashlight down the hall slowly, trying to see if he could find the source of the noise, but found nothing. “Did you hear that?”

           Britain was about to answer that America was only being paranoid when suddenly there was the shrill screech of metal on metal, followed by chains dragging along the floor; Britain immediately reached out and grabbed onto America’s arm tightly. “What was that?” he whispered, glancing over his shoulder apprehensively.

           America slowly continued forward, shining the flashlight and looking around. “I don’t know,” America answered quietly, straining to try and pick up any other noises that could alert him of where those who were trying to scare them were at. They made it to the end of the hallway cautiously and without hearing anything else. “I think they left,” America sighed, releasing a pent up breath of relief, “Let’s just try to keep quiet.”

           “Okay, okay,” Britain agreed, “but which way will we go?” he asked glancing down the hallway that turned off the left and then peeking up the staircase off to the right.

           There was a light thump. America immediately whipped the light towards the sound, which had come from the end of the hallway they’d just been in. It seemed as if it had been nothing, when suddenly the painting that hung on the wall – one that depicted a happy Spanish family at the dinner table – began to tear. And it wasn’t as if the painting had already been torn and was only now falling apart – no. It was in the process of **being** torn. It was as if someone had grabbed onto the corner of the painting and had just pulled down brusquely, leaving the painting in ribbons.

            Britain could feel a scream creeping at the back of his throat when he felt America grab his hand tightly and begin to dash up the stairs. They’d let go of each other as they ran, turning back occasionally as they heard louder noises; America had turned off the flashlight in an attempt to throw off their pursuers, making it hard to see where they were running. Britain knew he’d fallen behind – he could hear America running ahead of him – and just knew that he was bound to get lost in Spain’s huge mansion.

            Alone. In the dark.

          He hated to seem weak and scared but being left alone frightened him more than anything, so he put all his effort into catching up with America. Britain had just turned a corner when he felt an arm grab him from the side and shove him into a closet, shutting the door behind him.

           “Oh my Go-“ Britain began, before he felt a hand clamp over his mouth.

           “It’s okay, it’s me,” America whispered, breath ghosting over Britain’s ear.

           Britain nodded slowly and America pulled his hand away from his mouth, sure that Britain wouldn’t scream. His other arm, the one that had pulled Britain into the cramped closet, was still protectively around his waist, holding Britain to him. They stayed silent for a while, listening to the slow footsteps that were getting closer and closer to their position.

           “Holy crud, they’re getting closer,” America whined, fear making his voice hitch a few octaves higher and instinctively pulling Britain just a little closer to him.     

           “Shh,” Britain whispered back, “just calm down and they won’t find us.” Britain could feel America’s frantic heartbeat at his back as he was very close to America. He clasped his hand tightly with America’s and gently whispered, “Try to take deep breaths.”  America could feel his adrenaline and tension slowly ebb away as he felt Britain’s body move slightly with each breath that he took – breaths that America began to emulate in order to calm down. “See?” Britain smiled in the dark once he felt America’s heart regain its steady beat, “Nothing to be scared of when I’m here.”

           America nuzzled his face into Britain’s hair affectionately and breathed out, “Thanks.”

           “It’s nothing, really,” Britain answered back, feeling his stomach somersault due to America’s display of affection. It was then that he began to notice exactly how close to each other they were, and how America’s arm was still tightly around his midsection. That did nothing to help Britain’s growing blush, but he really couldn’t complain.

           _If you told him…maybe…maybe he might feel the same way,_ a small voice whispered at the back of Britain’s mind. Britain sighed. Wishful thinking on his part…once again. He immediately stomped out the unrealistic hope and focused on trying to catch any of the sounds coming from outside.

           “What’s up?” America asked, having noticed Britain’s sigh.

           “I’m just… a little winded that’s all,” Britain answered after a few short seconds.

           America bit his lip, feeling guilty about having left Britain behind. He’d only done it to find some place for them to hide but he still felt that it was partially his fault that Britain had gotten winded – maybe if he hadn’t left him behind he wouldn’t have tried so hard to catch up. “Sorry I took off without you.”

           “Oh that? It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Britain assured.

          “I’ll try to not do it again though,” America promised, still trying to make up for leaving Britain behind.

          “That sounds like a plan,” Britain smiled, giving America’s hand a gentle squeeze. There were a few beats of silence before Britain added, “Seems like they’re gone.”

          “Sounds like it,” America agreed. He began to move them until he was directly in front of the door. “Okay, I’m going to peek out, and if the coast is clear, we’ll come out, alright?”

          Britain nodded, then realized America couldn’t see him, so he said, “Alright.”

          America put his hand on the door, bracing himself to be able to shut it at a moment’s notice, and slowly turned the doorknob. He did it agonizingly slow, wincing every time the thing squeaked, feeling as if they were about to be found any second. After a solid 10 seconds though, he managed to crack the door open, sneaking a glance out. It was hard to make anything out too well in the dark, but from what he could make out it seemed as if there was no one nearby.

          “The coast seems clear,” America announced, opening up the door enough for both Britain and himself to get through. He flicked on their flashlight, giving the hallway one final sweep to make sure that they were, indeed, alone.

          “Wait,” Britain said, grabbing America’s hand and shining the flashlight back to a hall table he’d just overlooked.

          There on the table sat a small cardboard box. “Matches,” America smiled, glad that Britain had caught sight of them. “I hadn’t even noticed them - you’ve got a great eye for detail.”

          “Th-thanks,” Britain mumbled, quickly pulling away from where he’d grabbed America’s hand on the excuse that he was going to get the matches. “We should probably light one of these torches - that way we’ll know we’ve been here.”

          America nodded, shining the flashlight over the torch that was directly in front of Britain as Britain lit a match and held it to the torch. It quickly caught fire, bathing both of them in its low glow. The flickering flame cast shadows that danced along the nooks and crannies of Britain’s face, giving his green eyes a golden hue.

          “So, which way are we taking?” Britain asked, glancing down where they’d come before looking down the length of hall that they hadn’t explored.

          Realizing that he’d been staring - and glad Britain hadn’t noticed - America quickly turned the flashlight down the uncharted hall, motioning that they should go that way. “We haven’t seen any skeleton keys where we’ve been, so we might as well check out some place new,” America explained, willing the light blush that had crept onto his face to leave. Britain had just looked so... _ethereal_. So beautiful. He shook his head lightly, hoping to clear his head, when he felt a cautious hand grab onto his arm.

          “Do you, ah, mind if we maybe,” Britain began, locking arms with America, “stay like this?” He avoided making eye contact with America as he’d asked.

          “I don’t mind,” America answered, smiling. “Looks like you want a nice, strong country to take care of you,” he teased as they began to walk down the hall.

          “As if,” Britain sighed, rolling his eyes, cheeks a bright pink (thank Churchill for shitty lighting). “Let’s just find the bloody key and get this over with.”

* * *

 

         The sound of thundering footsteps overhead startled Italy. He jumped from his place beside Germany with a squeak and snatched Germany’s hand with his own. “Germany...what was that?” Italy uncharacteristically whispered, which definitely demonstrated that Italy was actually scared.

         Germany apprehensively glanced up just in time to see a few dust motes as they trickled down from the ceiling. “Spain and Prussia probably found someone and are chasing them around,” Germany said, trying to put Italy’s nerves at rest.

         Italy nodded in understanding, turning to look behind them as if he were expecting their older siblings to come charging down the hall with blankets over their heads in an attempt to act as ghosts. Italy almost _wished_ they would do that - their little trek in Spain’s mansion had been much too quiet for much too long.

         “I-a really hope they go easy on us,” Italy began, “Spain knows how easily a-scared I get.”

         With a sigh, Germany delivered what he felt was bad news, “Knowing that Spain _and_ Prussia are vorking together to scare us, I think it’s only a matter of time before they give us a real scare.” He gave Italy’s hand a gentle squeeze all the same before letting go. “It’s a good thing I don’t scare very easily.”

         Italy smiled at that, glad to have Germany with him. “Oh, those brothers of ours,” he laughed, going back to his carefree self. “I bet they didn’t count on you being so brave, Germany!”

        Germany didn’t want to tell Italy that his “bravery” could very well cause Prussia and Spain to try even _harder_ to scare them, so instead he just hummed in agreement. What Italy didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

        They continued on in relative silence with the only sound being Italy’s humming, something Germany was very thankful for since he knew that the least amount of noise they made the harder it would be for their brothers to find them. Besides, with Italy’s humming he felt much more at ease, something that the eerie atmosphere made it difficult to feel.

        Being preoccupied with his thoughts and listening to Italy hum, he completely missed the moans. But Italy didn’t.

        “Germany - ” Italy began, but was cut off when they heard a loud moan coming from somewhere behind them.

        It was faint, but it only told them one thing. They’d found them.

        “C’mon,” Germany said, reaching behind him to grab Italy’s hand once again, almost as if on reflex. “Let’s get going before they catch up.”

        “Okay,” Italy replied, quickly matching his pace to Germany’s as he began to hurry down the hall.

        The moans behind them got louder and eerily closer to them, making the hair on the back of Germany’s neck stand on end. He could feel Italy shaking, but decided not to mention it since the Italian hadn’t voiced his fear. They had just turned a corner, the moans now coming from all around them, when a suit of armor that had been standing in the hall toppled to the ground in a clatter of metal on wood, the noise reaching a crescendo as it synchronized with the moans, only to then leave everything in absolute silence.

        Italy jumped about three feet in the air, almost scrabbling up Germany’s back in the process. Germany just stared at the fallen armor, expecting it to almost get up and charge at them, but it remained on the ground, the disturbed dust settling around it. Then he started laughing.

       “Hey! That wasn’t funny!” Italy protested, immediately disentangling himself from Germany as he thought Germany was laughing at him.

       “No, no,” Germany started to explain, trying to control his laughter, “I’m not laughing at you, Italy.” He managed to keep a straight face as he continued, “This just seems,” he gestured at the armor and at the hall they’d just left, “a little childish. I honestly thought our siblings could do better.” Then he turned and shouted down the hall, “Is that the best you can do, brother? Really?”

       Only silence answered his jab at Prussia.

       “It still a-scared me, though!” Italy huffed.

       Germany only sighed as they began to make their way down the hall. “Italy, you’re scared of your own shadow sometimes, remember?”

       “True,” Italy mused.

       “And might I remind you that you sleep with me on an almost daily basis because you’re scared of sleeping alone?”

       “It’s a-not my fault that you’re so warm and cuddly to sleep with,” Italy said, looping his arm around Germany’s to keep close to him.

       Germany tried not to blush at Italy’s words (but failed) and continued to lead the way. “If Prussia and Spain keep this up,” he said, filling the silence that had fallen around them, “then finding these keys won’t be as hard as I thought.”

* * *

 

       “Won’t be as hard as you thought, huh?” Prussia grumbled, annoyed that Germany thought their attempts were feeble and childish.

       Spain only stood by quietly, thinking of ways to scare Germany since Italy wasn’t that hard to frighten. “What is your brother scared of, anyway?”

       Prussia threw his hands in the air in frustration, “West doesn’t seem scared of _anything_. I’ve known him since he was a baby and nope, nothing, _nothing_ frightens him.”

       Switzerland, who was with the pair, offered his opinion. “It seems as if the way to scare him would be through Italy.”

       “Come again?” Prussia asked, unsure if he’d heard Switzerland correctly.

       Nodding, Switzerland continued, obviously sure of his statement, “Well, there seems to be no other way to scare him - and he does care a lot for that streaking idiot, right?” Prussia nodded in confirmation. “Then you’ll just have to put them in a situation where Italy’s scared out of his wits. That’ll definitely cause him to worry - might even _scare_ him.”

      Prussia brightened at the prospect, then realized where Italy and his little brother were heading. “Spain, the next hallway - is that -”

      “Yup,” Spain confirmed. “It’s the blood hallway.”

      Prussia smiled, looking out through the peephole they’d been using to spy on Germany and Italy. “Let’s see if this is childish, little brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love shoving characters in tight spots it literally brings me life
> 
> I really hope you guys are liking it so far!


	3. More Schemes and Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow, the group is really getting a bit anxious, yeah? And what's that, is that the smell of an implied romance? And secrets of a certain someone's past coming to light?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this chapter is just a lot of scheming a some side character shenanigans/feels. I'm hoping you're still liking what you're reading!

Italy wasn’t sure what was creepier: the fact that the hallway they were going down was full of hundreds of pictures of Spain, or the fact that said pictures were oozing blood.

After a split second of deliberation, Italy decided that the blood was much creepier.

“These look really a-scary,” Italy whimpered, tightening his grip on Germany’s arm. Germany only sighed, stubbornly ignoring the bloody portraits as they continued through the house looking for the skeleton key. With a quick look to the side however, Germany was able to see that Italy was truly unnerved by the pictures, and it made him sad to see Italy like that.

So, Germany gently took a hold of Italy’s face, unknowingly setting Italy’s heart thundering. His hand felt warm and unusually soft - unlike the calloused way it had felt when he taught had him about guns and warfare. _It’s been a long time since that_ , Italy realized. _It’s been a long time since he’s seen war._

 

Italy had liked Germany back then, but he knew that this Germany was the one he’d grown to cherish even more - all gentle touches and soft glances, as if he expected Italy would break if he were to put even the lightest amount of pressure.

Without even realizing it, Italy found himself leaning eagerly into the touch, found himself slightly beginning to stand on his tip-toes, found himself shutting his eyes in anticipation, before he felt Germany gently press his face to his armor, the sudden cold of the metal jarring Italy from his thoughts.

“Just,” Germany began, “stay like this.” He ruffled Italy’s hair slightly, trying to lessen Italy’s fear. “Keep your eyes closed if you want to - don’t look at the walls until I tell you it’s okay.”

Italy nodded against the cool armor, sure that he could feel Germany’s warmth through it if he pressed himself a little closer to him. He could almost convince himself that he hadn’t thought about how warm Germany’s lips would have felt against his.

Almost.

_Stupid_ , Italy thought, _dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb - why would Germany even_ want _to kiss me - and in a haunted house of all places!_ He felt so ridiculous for even _thinking_ that that could have been a possibility, that Germany could have thought about doing something like that. _Germany doesn’t wish for the same things you do_ , he reminded himself with a dejected sigh, leaning his forehead against Germany’s armor again, this time closing his eyes.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, the hall feeling eternal, the only sound being their breathing and the shuffling of their footsteps. Yet, even after everything, Italy felt oddly at peace.

So he made the mistake of looking up, staring straight into Spain’s bloody face.

He had streaks of blood running down his cheeks, as if he were crying scarlet through his closed eyes, and there was what seemed like an ax sticking out of his head.

_It’s just a painting, it’s just a painting, it’s just a painting_ , Italy’s mind quickly supplied, trying to keep him from freaking out.

Then Spain opened his eyes, startlingly green compared to the dim lighting and the blood coating his face. “ _Hola_ ,” he smiled.

Italy screamed. Then he ran.

* * *

 

“Italy!” Germany shouted from the hallway, reaching out to where Italy had apparently run off to.

“Oh gosh, that was _great_ ,” Prussia gushed, taking a step back from the peephole just as Spain rounded a corner, wiping fake blood off his face with a slight pout.

“What’s wrong?” Prussia asked, unsure what to make of Spain’s facial expression.

He only wiped at his face with the towel he had once more. “I’m not sure I’m liking this all too much anymore,” he said, using the towel’s corner to dab beneath his eyes. “At first it was really fun and all, _pero mi pobre hermano_ \- he’s terrified!”

Prussia smirked, hands at his hips. “Please do not tell me that you’re getting cold feet.”

Spain had just opened his mouth to answer when Prussia continued.

“Look - just, just look,” he ushered Spain to the peephole, where they could see Germany looking left and right frantically as he searched for Italy before taking off down the hall, flashlight bobbing as he lightly jogged away. “I can just feel it, Spain,” Prussia grinned as Spain stepped away from the peephole. “They’re close to confessing, I can just feel it.”

“ _Lo que tu digas,_ ” Spain hummed, shaking his head. He couldn’t stop a small smile from tugging at his lips though. “I really do hope Italy forgives me after all of this is done and over with.”

“Don’t worry,” Prussia beamed, throwing an arm over Spain’s shoulders, “he’s gonna love you.”

They started walking down the narrow passageway following Germany’s disappearing light.

“If this works out, we might have to try another ploy to pair off little Romano.”

“What?” Prussia asked, coming to an abrupt stop as all color drained from his face.

Spain threw a smirk over his shoulder. “Consider it payback for Italy as well as a thank you. Even though you’ll probably be thanking me, but it’s no big deal.”

Prussia’s face immediately turned from ghostly pale to bright pink. “I-I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“If you say soo…” Spain sang, a new spring in his step, knowing that the look on Prussia face was reason enough to start to develop some sort of plan.

Maybe Italy wasn’t going to be the only one getting together with someone of Germanic blood after all.

* * *

 

“Careful - c- _careful_ ,” Austria huffed, rushing forward when he saw Russia and Switzerland teetering with his piano.

Russia only waved him aside. “C’mon, Austria - we have this covered,” he smiled, pushing a few stray strands of hair from his face.

Switzerland bummed his hip against Austria, knocking him to the side, “Just move out of the way and let us handle all the heavy lifting.”

“I’m just worried you two will drop my baby,” Austria sniffed, moving aside so as to give the others more room. Switzerland and Russia just nodded in understanding (Russia goodnaturedly, Switzerland with a roll of his eyes) as they continued on without any other comments.

Before they knew it, they had the piano situated in its place, just ready to be put to use.

Russia proudly observed their handiwork whilst Austria put the final finishing touches to ensure that he would be unseen whilst the piano was in full view. Switzerland, however, knew they had a time constraint they had to deal with.

He cleared his throat. “We heard Italy screaming just a while ago - wasn’t that meant to be our cue to go back?”

“You are right,” Russia agreed, walking around the room they were in, specifically towards the corners, until he found what France had asked him to be on the lookout for. With a quick swipe at some cobwebs, he’d successfully gotten what he’d been asked for, putting it in a glass jar Spain had given him, before stashing it in the confines of his scarf. “We should be returning to make sure that everything is still running smoothly.”

Giving the piano one final look and without mentioning Russia’s spider-catching prowess, Austria got up from where he’d been crouched and ran a hand through his hair, rumpling the slicked-back Dracula hair he’d had going. “I do hope this all works out,” he began. “All I want is Italy’s happiness - after seeing him grow up in my manor, I almost feel as if he’s like my own son.”

Switzerland gave Austria a weird look. “Didn’t you think he was a girl though?”

Austria shot him a glare. “It is not my fault Hungary put him in frilly dresses - but that is beside the point. I still feel as if Italy were my own child, so I do wish to see him get what he so deserves. Especially since - “ He quickly cut himself off, sucking in quick breath as he caught himself saying something that obviously wasn’t supposed to be known.

Russia and Switzerland exchanged quizzical looks. “‘Especially since’ what, exactly?” Switzerland ventured.

“Well,” Austria started saying, stopping himself as if mentally deliberating what to tell them. Then he finally shrugged, a gesture of _Well, I guess I might as well tell them_. “Just don’t breathe a word of this to anyone, alright?”

The other two countries nodded.

“Okay,” Austria ran a hand through his hair again, ruffling it up even more.

_It looks nicer like that_ , Switzerland mused, before immediately blushing bright red at the thought and quickly shoving that admission to the farthest part of his mind. That was something he was definitely _not_ dealing with any time soon.

“So, Italy and Germany,” Austria continued, not even having noticed Switzerland's brief second of panic, “may have history together.”

Russia tilted his head to the side in confusion. “But we know that - they fought together during World War Two, no?”

Austria ran his hand through his hair yet again, shaking his head and making a few strands of hair fall to his forehead. Switzerland forced himself not to even acknowledge them - and he _definitely_ refused to think about how nice it would probably feel to have Austria running his hands through _his_ hair. “No, no, not that.” Austria took a deep breath. “They go back even farther than that. Germany - Germany was Italy’s first love!”

“Wait, _what_?” Switzerland asked, Austria’s words having completely jarred him from his own inner turmoil.

“It’s true - when Italy was only a child, he had a romance with the young Holy Roman Empire and -”

Russia cut Austria off, “But didn’t Holy Rome vanish in the Thirty Year’s War?”

“Yes, he did,” Austria explained, his words coming faster than before, “but Germany emerged from him - all of Holy Rome’s memories had been wiped. Prussia raised him as an entirely new country -”

Now it was Switzerland’s turn to interrupt, “But doesn’t Germany _know_ that he was Holy Rome? So, by extension, doesn’t Italy know, too?”

“No, no, that’s not how it works.” Austria shook his head. “When Prussia took him in, he wanted to make sure Germany got a fresh start, with no memories from what might have been a painful past. I was the only person aside from Prussia that knew that Germany had been Holy Rome as a child - he made me swear not to tell anyone.” He hung his head in shame. “Italy thought that Holy Rome perished in the war, and so he purposely forgot about him to cope with the heartache. I-I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that Germany was his beloved Holy Rome, for fear that he would go to him and try to approach him romantically only to be rebuffed by Germany, whom wouldn’t know anything about their past together. Italy and Germany _deserve_ this second chance. That’s why I’m going to be playing the piano.” He gestured at it vaguely. “To see if maybe I can lull the familiarity they have with each other out with a melody they might recognize.”

“And Prussia kept Italy and Germany’s childhood romance a secret also?” Russia asked, barreling past Austria’s short spiel about the piano.

Austria shook his head, his gaze still stubbornly on his shoes. “Only I knew about their relationship.” He still didn’t look up as he continued, “Maybe if I’d _told_ Italy, he and Germany would already -”

Once again, Switzerland cut in (he was glad that Austria was so worked up, or else he would have strangled him for interrupting him so many times), “Hey, hey, hey. Look, don’t get so down on yourself like that - you did what you thought was right.” He took a step towards Austria, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder - and completely ignoring the somersaults his stomach did when Austria looked at him. “This’ll work out,” he said, squeezing Austria’s shoulder lightly. “They’ll be back together again before the night’s out, just you wait.”

Austria gave him a weak smile. “Thank you, Switzerland.”

They remained like that a few more seconds, Switzerland with a hand on Austria’s shoulder and reassurance being silently exchanged between the two, until Russia cleared his throat. “We should get going, no?” he said, already getting into the passageway that would take them back to Spain, Prussia, France, and Japan, and completely missing the way Austria and Switzerland jumped away from each other as if they’d been caught doing something indecent.

“Yeah, we should go,” Switzerland mumbled, already rushing after Russia and trying to hide the blush that’d come back in full force, and not even realizing that Austria had turned a bright pink as well as he tripped after them in the dark.

* * *

 

_Vhere could he have gone to?_ Germany thought, taking another turn down the winding halls of Spain’s home. _How did Spain even get around in such an enormous house like this - it was just inefficient._ And besides that, it was making it much, much more difficult to find Italy. He swung his flashlight back and forth, almost methodically, trying to see if there were any signs that Italy had been down this hall.

Germany’s initial worry began to give way to an inkling of fear, with a slight undercurrent of annoyance. His fear was for Italy - he was afraid that Italy could have hurt himself in his mad dash from his side or that he could have gotten even more lost in Spain’s labyrinthine mansion. His annoyance was aimed only for himself, manifesting itself in the mantra of _I should have just held his hand and gotten us through quicker, I should have just reassured him more, I should have I should have I should have._ He was so engulfed in berating himself and worrying for Italy that he almost walked right past the ajar closet door, and he didn’t even notice it until he hear the sniffling coming from inside.

“Is that you, Italy?” Germany asked quietly, gently opening the door to find Italy curled into a small ball at the back of the closet.

Italy raised his head warily, fearing another trick courtesy of Spain and Prussia, but released a pent up breath of relief when he saw that it was actually Germany. “I’m sorry I ran away,” he croaked, setting his head back onto the ground before covering his face with his arms. “I just got sc-scared.”

“Do not vorry,” Germany assured, “there’s nothing wrong with getting scared.”

“Yes there is,” Italy huffed from behind his arms. “I’m a-scared of _everything_.” He sat up abruptly. “I’m scared of _everything_ , Germany! I can’t even deal with it on my own - I’m almost _always_ needing your help, even with my nightmares!” Italy was breathing heavily, obviously worked up, yet he kept going. “I’m - I’m _weak_ -” he choked out, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

Germany didn’t really know what to do, but he felt that Italy needed reassurance. He sat down across from Italy slowly (his suit of armor was really not helping him out in the situation), reaching out towards Italy and lightly squeezing his knee. Italy hardly even acknowledged the gesture; he merely glanced up before burying his face in his arms again. “It is okay to be frightened,” Germany gently said.

Italy looked up now, locking eyes with Germany. “How?”

He shrugged. “It means you aren’t completely stupid.” Upon seeing Italy’s immediate frown at that, Germany continued, “It means that you are human.”

“In case you didn’t know,” Italy began, seemingly unsatisfied with Germany’s answer, “we’re countries.” He sighed. “We aren’t human.”

Germany shook his head, taking Italy’s hand - and trying to ignore the butterflies he felt in the process because he would _not_ admit he felt like that. “We may not be human in the traditional sense,” he explained. “But we feel.” He squeezed Italy’s hand. “We are capable of feelings and emotions - whether it’s fear or worry or-or _love_ ,” Germany stuttered out, “We _can_ feel. And what’s more human than that?”

At that Italy remained silent, Germany having apparently left him speechless.

“So it’s not bad to be scared,” Germany finished, not noticing that he’d started rubbing small circles on the back of Italy’s hand with his thumb.

“Okay,” Italy breathed out finally, having nothing much to really say. “Okay,” Italy repeated, with a little more conviction. He got to his feet, pulling Germany up with him. “Let’s find that key!” he grinned.

“Vell that was one quick mood change.”

He squeezed Germany’s hand as he started to drag them down the hall opposite the direction they’d come from. “It’s all thanks to you,” Italy answered with a shy smile.

Germany let go of Italy’s hand to ruffle his hair, “Just know that if you _are_ afraid, I’m here.”

“I know you are,” Italy beamed, feeling much better than he had minutes before. “Which makes me believe that it is okay to be scared.”

* * *

 

“Geez - _‘It’s okay to be scared; it makes us human.’_ How much more doe-eyed could West get?” Prussia laughed from where he and Spain were spying on the pair after Prussia recuperated from Spain’s teasing about Romano.

“I honestly thought they were going to start kissing,” Spain commented. “ _Que bueno que no_ \- now we can carry on the way we’d planned.”

“Yes we can,” Prussia smiled mischievously. “Now let’s head back to France and the rest of them. I hear that Austria, Switzerland, and Russia’ve already met up with the group. We might as well set this little _reunion_ into motion.”

* * *

 

“This will definitely do,” France mused, walking around Switzerland with an appreciative eye. Switzerland fidgeted a little beneath his scrutinizing gaze, but otherwise didn’t move. “We’ve just gotta…” France quickly swiped his Link hat off his head, “And there!”

“His hair’s a little lighter though,” Japan observed.

Russia walked around from behind Switzerland and squinted. “In the dark...yes, it is possible to mistake the two.”

“I told you this was a great idea!” France grinned. He turned to Austria. “But thank _you_ for bringing Switzerland along.”

“I wouldn’t’ve brought him if he hadn’t followed me,” Austria grumbled, walking up to the pair. “Besides, you’ve gotta do _this_.” He ran his hands through Switzerland’s hair, ignoring the way his heart sped up at it’s silky feel as it slipped through his fingers, mussing it this way and that to get rid of Switzerland’s usually tidy hair and instead adopt his look-alike’s slightly more rowdy hairstyle.

Switzerland refused to meet Austria’s eyes - he couldn’t even stop himself from controlling the goosebumps that Austria’s hands had caused as they’d slipped through his hair.

“Damn, he sure does look like him,” Prussia called from down the hall where he and Spain were finally coming to join them.

“This is sooooo going to work,” France gushed excitedly, already feeling their plans reaching their long-awaited crescendo.

“Well let’s hurry - we just walked past Britain and America; they’re headed this way,” Spain said. “So just meet up with them and find Germany and Italy.” He jerked his thumb backwards, “They’re somewhere in the third corridor - they aren’t hard to miss.” No one really moved, all too wrapped up in the way their plans were coming along nicely. Spain sighed. “Guys? _Ahora!_ Let’s get going!”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOOhhhhh, what are they planning, oh my gosh, I'm so curious!!
> 
> Seriously though, I dunno what I'm doing anymore, it's 3:45 in the morning and formatting all this is tiring me out. I really hope you guys like it though!


	4. Temporary Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group gets together, if only briefly, just to fuck shit up and get feelings all riled up for the big finale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry. My poor children.

“Did you hear that?” Britain asked, stopping in his tracks and tightening his grip on America’s arm.

“No, not...” America began, immediately growing quiet as he heard voices coming from around the corner.

“They’re over here, c’mon!”

There was a flashlight beam that shone on the wall opposite the corner where America and Britain had stopped.

“Are you sure that they’re near here?” another voice asked.

“Wait, is that Japan?” America whispered, face breaking into a bright smile as he recognized that it was their friends around the corner.

“France, are you sure you’re leading us the right way?” That was definitely Russia.

Britain wrinkled his nose in poorly hidden disgust. “France is with them.”

America turned to Britain with a slight pout on his face. “Don’t be like that Britain - France isn’t _that_ bad. He’s our friend, and besides, he’s with Russia and Japan, who I think you at least consider your friends.”

“Fine,” Britain huffed. He cleared his throat then called out. “Hey - it’s us, America and Britain.”

The shuffling got louder down the other hall, as if the other three had began to make their way quicker towards them. Suddenly a bright light was being shined right in Britain’s face.

“France, I know it’s you, you bloody wanker - quit it,” Britain scowled, shying behind America to keep the light from his eyes.

“How did you know?” France smiled, turning the flashlight towards the ground.

America put his arm down from where he’d covered his face to flash the other three a bright smile; jeez, he didn’t only rival the brightness of France’s shitty flashlight - he downright rivaled the brightness of the _Sun_.

“Have you guys had any luck finding the keys?” America asked.

Japan shook his head. “We’ve been upstairs already and we’ve seen nothing.” He took France’s flashlight and began walking down the hall, Russia following suit with France, Britain, and America walking in step behind them.

Russia shot Japan a smile. Japan nodded with a smile of his own. They’d run into Germany and Italy soon enough.

France then began playing his part, sauntering between America and Britain, throwing his arms around the two. Britain immediately pulled away with a huff and a quick “France, _stop_.” but America didn’t even complain.

“It’s good to see that America kept you all nice and safe, Britain,” France smirked.

“I didn’t really do anything,” America began to explain.

“And what if he did?” Britain scowled, already feeling himself taking France’s bait. The fucker hadn’t been with them for 3 minutes and he was already pissing Britain off.

“Well, that doesn’t even come as a surprise,” France shrugged, looping his other arm around America’s waist as he slipped to his other side. “I _am_ surprised that you haven’t found the skeleton key though - if _we’d_ been a team, we would have found it ages ago.”

Britain was about to snap back at France when America stepped in. “I don’t know, France - these keys are really well hidden. Honestly, I don’t think we would have found the keys yet either.”

“True,” France mused, when suddenly his smile gained a mischievous quality to it. “You’re right, America,” France purred, “we really wouldn’t have found the keys yet. Especially since it’s so _dark_ around here... _I_ would have definitely made sure we enjoyed ourselves in _exciting_ ways.”

A sudden surge of jealousy washed over Britain. He barely managed to keep it in check. “How about,” Britain growled, “ _I_ take advantage of the dark and beat you senseless?” Well, mostly in check.

“But, Britain!” France exclaimed, “Why so much animosity?” France’s eyes flashed, showing his amusement at Britain reaction.

Britain felt his blood practically boiling. France seemed to know _exactly_ what to say and do to get under his skin, and he seemed to be _very actively_ going out of his way to do it recently. “Oh, you damn well know if you’re going to be such an -”

“Hey, look,” America pointed out, stepping away from France’s trailing arms and coming to stand beside Britain in an attempt to calm him down. “It’s Italy and Germany!”

Sure enough, the pair had heard the group and had begun making their way towards them, their flashlight bobbing up and down as they got nearer.

“Hello!” Italy smiled, waving enthusiastically from his place beside Germany.

“Have you two found anything?” Japan asked.

Germany shook his head as Italy began babbling away. “No - but our brothers sure have been scaring us, right Germany?”

“Pft,” Germany grumbled, shaking his head yet again. “When I get my hands on Prussia - now he’s going to hope _I’m_ not being scary with _him_.”

Suddenly there was a sound like a muffled crash from somewhere behind the group. Britain and Italy both jumped before latching onto the nearest person to them (Britain’s being America, and Italy’s being Germany). America took a cautious step away from the noise, bringing him closer to the group; Germany apprehensively glared down at where the noise seemed to have come from, as if daring whoever was there to come out; Russia, Japan, and France didn’t even bat an eye.

When no further _disturbances_ were heard, the group visibly relaxed a little, going back to their conversation.

“Does anyone have an idea on how to find these keys?” Russia asked, bringing attention back to their problem.

Germany fiddled with his flashlight. “So far, we have had no luck whatsoever - we haven’t even found any matches to light the torches on the walls.”

“We found some,” Britain said, pulling the box of matches America and he had found from his pocket.

Japan looked around, then pointed at a torch on the wall a little farther down the hall. “We should maybe light the torches we see, right? That way we don’t come looking down this hall again.” He walked over to Britain, “Want to do it together?”

Britain shrugged. “Sure - we’re just sticking in this hall, for a bit anyways.”

The two walked away, still within sight due to the glow from Japan’s flashlight, yet out of earshot. France took advantage of that quickly enough.

He smirked at America, leaning over and whispering, “I know a _secret_ path.”

America turned to him with a raised eyebrow, a small smile playing on his lips, his curiosity piqued. “Do you really?”

France nodded vigorously. “How about we go off - I promise I won’t do anything _you_ don’t want to,” he added with a wink. “We can find the keys and get back to the group before they know it.” America still looked a little doubtful, glancing down towards where he knew Britain was before he bit his lip in thought. France grabbed America by the chin and wrenched his gaze away from Britain, making him turn to him instead. “C’mon America - it’ll be like old times again! France and America, heroes. It’ll be just like your Revolution!” America’s eyes darted to the side briefly, a very quick movement that would have been missed had France blinked. _Wow, not even the Revolution was enough to win him over..._ France thought, a little surprised himself. _He really_ does _like Britain._ So, France decided to use that to his advantage. “Britain would probably find it impressive if we found the keys to get us all out…” he commented, almost as an afterthought.

That brought America’s eyes to France, alight with something France couldn’t quite place.

“You really think that?” America asked, barely suppressing his obvious hope. France nodded and let go of America, smiling to really sell the deal. “Okay,” America agreed. He glanced one last time at Britain then grinned back at France, “Let’s find those keys.”

Germany and Italy were engrossed in a conversation with Russia, but Russia noticed France leading America down the hall in the opposite direction. France winked at him, and motioned towards the two he was talking to with a nod of his head. Russia gave an imperceptible nod of his head. He had Germany and Italy under control.

“This way,” France said, turning down the hall and climbing into a closet with America close behind. He peeled at the wallpaper, which came undone easily to reveal a door. He grinned over his shoulder as he opened the door, showing the dark corridor within. “Let’s go, then!”

* * *

 

“So, there is nothing in the basement?”

Russia shook his head to answer Germany’s question. “We looked almost everywhere there.” He shrugged, his scarf rising to cover his mouth with the movement. He pulled it down with his hand free hand. “We found nothing.”

Italy looked deep in thought, then he seemed to come up with something and promptly pulled at Russia’s sleeve. “What about the attic?”

“We have not been there,” Russia answered. “The keys could be there,” he mused.

“Vell, at least ve know vere to look now,” Germany commented, glancing down the hall to where they could still make out Britain and Japan turning on another torch. He looked around, the flashed his light down the hall as if looking for something.

“It is good you have reminded us that this house even _has_ an attic,” Russia continued, patting Italy on the back. “Good job, Italy.”

“Thank you!” Italy beamed, proud of his observation. “I know Spain has an attic - he always keeps old things up there. Maybe he cleaned it out for the haunted house so he could put the keys up there!” Italy then reached a hand up to scratch at his neck, a sudden itch bothering him.

Germany looked around them one last time. “Hey, veren’t France and America -” he stopped talking when he saw Italy’s face.

He had stopped scratching his neck, slowly bringing his hand down from where it’d been. He definitely was _not_ breathing. He looked down at his shoulder just to be met face to face with a giant domestic house spider.

Italy shrieked.

“Vait, no, Italy, calm down -” Germany began, trying to reach out to Italy.

“Eeeeee!” Italy continued shrieking, managing to shake off the spider in the process - but, it was too late, Italy was way too freaked out to see reason. He took one glance down the hall, then took off at full speed into the dark.

“No, vait!” Germany swore. He turned to Russia. “I’m going after him - hopefully you all find the keys and ve can find you again.”

Russia nodded, not even getting a chance to say anything to Germany as he took off down the hall after Italy.

Hopefully Austria was in place in the attic already, because from the look of it, Italy might run up there quicker than they’d thought. He turned around and began making his way towards Britain and Japan.

 

* * *

“That seems to be the last one in this hall,” Japan said as Britain lit another torch.

“I hope so, this hall seemed endless,” Britain mumbled dryly. He was already feeling anxious - he felt like it’d been quiet for too long, so he knew Prussia and Spain were definitely planning something.

His suspicions seemed to be confirmed when Russia joined them, coming from where the group had been.

“So, any plans?” Japan asked, glancing behind Russia to see if he could catch a glimpse of the others.

He shook his head, fidgeting with his scarf. “They’re um, gone.”

“Pardon?” Britain almost dropped the matches. “What do you mean they’re gone?”

Russia looked up at Britain before turning his gaze away. “Well, Germany just went to look for Italy - Italy got scared by a spider and ran away.” He explained. “But before that, America and France had left -”

“Wait, what do you mean they _left_?” Britain asked, feeling his heart rate pick up.

“They were just gone.” Russia made a “poof” hand motion. “I didn’t even notice when they’d left.”

“We have to look for them,” Britain said quickly, already feeling worry pool at the pit of his stomach. If France did anything to America he was so going to -

But what if America went with him willingly?

_He couldn’t have,_ Britain immediately denied, before doubt began to take root. He scrambled for another explanation - _what if he_ had _gone willingly, but not to do what France had insinuated earlier?_ That seemed more plausible. Yeah, that had to be it. Yet, Britain couldn’t bring himself to honestly believe it. _They’re together right now - for all anyone knows they could be shagging in a dark corner of Spain’s mansion._ The thought made Britain’s stomach turn and he couldn’t help the anger that made him clench his fists.

Japan put a calming hand on his shoulder, giving Britain a look of what was probably comfort. “Well, we know that they didn’t come this way. We should go down the other way.”

Britain nodded without another word and followed Russia who had already started down the hall. They walked in silence - Britain quietly stewing in a continuous stream of thoughts and scenarios about what America and France could be doing and Russia and Japan merely keeping track of where they were in the house. They walked down corridors and up a flight of stairs, the only noise throughout their trek being their shuffling feet.

Suddenly, they heard a peal of laughter that was unmistakably France.

“Looks like they’re near,” Russia commented.

Japan had been about to say something when they heard France purr.

“I’m sorry if I’m being too forward, it’s just that I _love_ a man in uniform.”

The look on Britain’s face changed from thoughtful worry to downright fury in .342 seconds flat. “Too _forward_ ,” he growled under his breath.

Then -

“Oh, _America_ , loosen up so we can have _fun_.”

_Loosen up so we can have fun! America had said after throwing his arm around Britain’s shoulders, his childish pout giving way to an easy going smile._

_Fuck_ France. He was _not_ going to fuck with America.

He gauged where France’s voice was coming from, and turned to Japan and Russia. “I’ll get them,” he choked out, immediately clearing his throat, “You guys can just wait here.” Russia and Japan merely shrugged, so Britain nodded, then began heading down the hall towards France’s voice, doing all he could to keep from running towards the sound.

* * *

 

Japan and Russia watched as Britain sped off into the mansion.

“Don’t you think they may be pushing them a little too hard?” Japan asked.

Russia only shrugged. “If it makes them admit their feelings, I don’t think they’ll be too mad.”

“That’s true,” Japan smiled, then sighed. “I just really hope that they get together already - all this running around is making me tired.” Then Japan turned to look at the walls attentively, since he knew the corridors that lay within. “Prussia does need to keep his annoyance in check - you heard that banging around after Germany said he’d get scary with him.”

“But it is Prussia,” Russia laughed, “we were lucky he only made a ruckus somewhere in the house and didn’t come stomping out with a pout on his face.”

The two kept laughing as they made their way back to the living room downstairs, where they knew everyone would meet up once this haunted-house charade was over.

* * *

 

“Do you mind if we maybe - _oh_ enthusiastic, are we?” France crooned from somewhere in the dark. Britain felt his heart clench in his chest. Whatever was going on was definitely not something he wanted to hear. Then there came a chime of breathy laughter - which wasn’t France’s.

_Oh, shit,_ Britain realized, _it must be America_. But he sounded slightly...off. He sounded weird. He just didn’t sound like himself.

The second realization made Britain even more nervous, because America was hardly ever thrown off enough to actually _show_ it. Britain began to quicken his pace, straining his hearing. He reached a corner and tripped before turning, barely catching himself. As he was turning, he was still righting himself from his stumble, and when he looked up, the scene he was almost made him trip again.

America and France were in some other room - a room that apparently had some sort of torch or something since both of them were illuminated by some sort of faint light, as it made America’s hair seem unnaturally pale - that had a window-esque opening in it. Both of them were standing - America with his back to Britain and France facing America. Britain was obscured from France’s point of view by America’s body.Through that open panel of wall, Britain could see the two of them - but that wasn’t what made Britain’s heart jump to his throat.

France had an arm wrapped around America’s blue-clad waist, the other tangled in his blonde hair whilst America himself had his hands loosely at France’s hips. The hand France had in America’s hair was fisted in the blonde locks, tugging on them slightly. It wasn’t until Britain noticed that specific detail that he saw what he’d stepped into - it wasn’t until then that Britain felt like he wanted to curl up and get swallowed by the dark.

America and France were kissing. And it wasn’t even a chaste, quick kiss - _no_. They were making out roughly, France tugging America this way and that, fixing the angle of their faces to get more depth or whatever the fuck they were doing as they stuck their tongues down each other’s throats. Then France pulled away, lips red from having been kissing America with so much force. “How was _that_?” he smirked. Whatever America probably squeaked out was drowned out by the sudden rush of blood that roared in Britain’s ears when he saw France moving to _mouth down America’s neck._

Britain felt like he couldn’t get enough oxygen into his lungs. He clenched his fists at his side and took a step forward, meaning to do who knew what since right at that moment movement behind him briefly distracted him.

The door near him opened up and someone came out right as the lamplight in the room where France and America were in was extinguished, leaving Britain in the dark. Britain sucked in a quick breath, startled by the sudden change in the surroundings.

There was shuffling near him. “Britain, is that you?”

It was America. Britian couldn’t choke back the lump in his throat.

“Fuck _off_.” His voice broke.

He could hear noise coming from ahead and from behind, America probably disentangling himself from France and Prussia or Spain coming up to scare him from behind. He did the only thing he could think of and ran.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to Britain and Italy for having to put up with my shit. I'm so sorry that Britain had to see that scene and Italy got scared by that spider. Shout out to Russia for those mad spider-catching skills though! I hope you like the story and you stick around for the end!


	5. Keys and Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confessions abound, only after some shouting and a few tears. Or maybe a lot of tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is the last chapter, I hope you guys have enjoyed my late night writing! Happy Halloween!

Italy was almost completely out of breath when he got to the last floor of Spain’s house. His heart was still beating erratically in his chest, but he was way more calm as he doubled over and took in lungfuls of air. _Breathe, breathe, breathe,_ Italy coached himself, slowly getting his heart rate to calm from the rapid pace it’d been moments before.

After a good 5 minutes - once Italy was no longer gasping for breath - he looked around trying to take in his surroundings. It was extremely dark, which definitely did not help him as he tried to figure out where he was. He suddenly remembered how he’d left Germany behind. He facepalmed. _Good going, Italy_ , he congratulated himself. _Germany just wanted to help and you left him. Again._

He wandered the corridors, trying to find the stairs he knew he’d run up just minutes before, but he couldn’t seem to find them. All he wanted to do was get downstairs as soon as possible - he just knew Germany must be worried about him.

Italy was just about to walk past a hall he could have sworn he’d already been down when he heard it. The notes were sharp and clear - the way soft morning light that filters through a bedroom window is in the morning, just the right amount of comforting and reassuring - flooding his mind with memories of his childhood. Piano keys sang again - cleaner this time, and unmistakably familiar.

The words of a lullaby almost forgotten were already coming back to Italy as he turned down the hall, going to the source of the music, his fears and worries momentarily forgotten as the music brought him back to the pristine mansion that was his childhood home and to the blonde child that had set his heart alight for the first time.

 

* * *

Britain kept running, arms pumping hard as he tried to shake off whoever was following him. _Not now_ , was all Britain could think. _Spain and Prussia need to back off - I-I need time for myself, I need to sort through how I feel -_

He pitched forward, not catching himself in time as he ran across a flight of stairs. The tumble wasn’t very bad - a dozen steps at most - but hitting the ground beneath was the worst. Britain had thrust his arms out in front of him as he fell, just barely keeping his face from colliding with the wooden floor, but that left his palms scraped and his arms bruised from where _they_ took the blunt force of the fall.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Britain shakily breathed out, barely making out the outline of his bruised hands. He couldn’t tell if he was maybe bleeding or not - the dark and the tears that were blurring his eyes made it hard to see. He pulled himself up, palms burning as he wiped them off on his pants.

“Hey - Britain, what happened, are you okay?” America called out from somewhere behind him. Apparently he’d heard the nasty fall Britain had taken.

“Leave me alone!” Britain shouted, quickly choosing which way to run to get away from him. _So it’s not Prussia or Spain_ , he realized. _It’s America._ He didn’t know if that was necessarily any better.

“Wait, no - Britain!”

He kept running, not bothering to pause until he came across an open door. He bolted inside, then noticed that the seemingly “main” room had a small den that could be accessed through another door. It seemed as good a hiding place as any. Running inside, he slammed the door shut behind him, leaning his weight against the door to catch his breath.

Seconds ticked by, his labored breathing being the only noise. Britain closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the door, and finally let himself cry. It started off as a choked sob, a giant intake of breath that usually precedes it being the telltale giveaway, but Britain wouldn’t allow it. _I’m not going to let_ him _affect me this much._ So he decided to just let himself cry, hot, angry tears silently running down his face only to drop to the ground once they collected at his chin.

There was a creak of floorboards in the room Britain had just been in. “Britain? You in here, buddy?” came America’s tentative voice.

Britain pressed his balled up fists to his face, trying to stop himself from giving away that he was crying - as if America could even see him. “I told you to leave me alone!”

“Are you okay?” America asked, his voice sounding distant through the door between them. Britain could just feel him standing on the other side.

“Can’t you listen to me for once and just _leave_!” The crack in Britain’s voice was all too noticeable for America to simply overlook.

“Just tell me what’s wrong - I’m worried about you.”

He wasn’t going to tell him - Britain had decidedly chosen not let him know that he’d been so deeply affected by what he’d seen. Yet, here he was, about to relent, all because he could hear the genuine worry when America talked. Here he was, about to relent, all because he could just imagine the pained look America would give him were they face to face. He breathed a heavy sigh, needing time and trying to summon the courage to talk to America about it.

“ _Britain_?” America sang out, trying to lighten the mood, filling in the brief seconds of Britain’s silence as he thought about how to answer his question. “ _Do you want to build a snowman?_ ”

Despite himself, Britain felt his lips twitch into the beginnings of a smile. “ _Frozen_ is so 2013.”

“ _C’mon let’s go and play!_ ” America continued, his voice muffled slightly. He could feel America leaning against the door as he sat down with his back to it.

“I saw you,” Britain began, taking advantage of America’s momentary lapse in silence as he seemed to be recalling the lyrics to the song. He slowly slid down against the door until he was sitting on the ground, knees pulled up to his chest, mirroring the movement America had seemingly made. “I saw you and France.”

What seemed like an eternity passed before America responded. “Oh, that?” There was an evident smile in America’s tone, and it turned Britain’s blood to lead. “I thought it’d be a good idea - I didn’t know it’d bother you so much.” At least the bastard had the decency to sound a little apologetic with his second sentence.

Britain barked out a mirthless laugh, a new wave of tears stinging his eyes. “So you thought it’d be a good idea, yeah?” He shook his head. “God, why do I even bother…” he spat, his voice not as venomous as he’d hoped he’d sounded. Mostly he just sounded broken, just like he felt.

Yet, it seemed to do the trick as America began trying to explain himself.

“Honestly, it was nothing - France pitched the idea, and I didn’t see why not, especially when I thought about how great it’d be seeing your face afterwards when we came back wi-”

Britain was on his feet, wrenching the door open in a heartbeat. America toppled backwards, as the door opened, leaving him with only empty space to lean on, but quickly scrambled to his feet when he saw Britain shaking at the door with tear tracks running down his face.

“You thought it’d be great seeing me like this?” Britain choked out, voice barely above a whisper.

“What? No - no, I-I didn’t expect you to react like this - I-” America continued, but Britain was having none of it.

“Then how _did_ you expect me to react, America? Did you expect me to jump with joy when I bloody saw you two?”

America nodded. “Uh, yeah - I thought you would love the fact that we -”

“Had your tongues down each other’s throats? You thought I would _love_ that?” Britain screeched. He was beyond devastated - he was livid. It was one thing for America to be shagging France on the downlow - it was completely different for the asshole to want him to be _happy_ for him.

“Wait, what? What are you talking about?” America asked, obviously confused.

Britain wasn’t buying his crap. “I _saw_ both of you, America. Stop playing dumb.” He put a hand to his forehead, trying to calm himself down a bit. He looked back at America, his eyes showing how hurt he felt. “I _saw_ both of you... _snogging_.”

“Whoa, wait a second,” America interrupted, putting his hands up in a sign of surrender, “France and I did not kiss.”

“Stop lying!” Britain yelled. “Just - just stop lying about it already,” he repeated, voice just above a whisper this time. “Just stop lying to me. I _saw_ the two of you, America! You were both going at it and _obviously_ enjoying yourselves -”

America took a step forward, trying to put his hands on Britain’s shoulders in an effort to ground him and try to make him see that he was telling the truth. Britain took a matching step back, away from America. “We _didn’t_ kiss,” America desperately explained, hoping Britain would see the truth in his words.

Britain regarded him coldly. “You aren’t denying that you were together though,” he commented. “I know what I saw.”

“Well, no, since we were together, but that doesn’t mean -”

“ _Yes_ , it does mean a whole lot of things, America! It means everything at this point!” Britain fumed, willing himself to stay angry. Because if he didn’t, he knew he’d melt into a puddle of tears.

“Why does it even matter if I was with him?” America countered, finally caving beneath Britain’s incessant accusations. He threw his hands up in the air. “France and I didn’t kiss. Yes, I was with him, but we were only looking for the keys - why does it matter though?”

“It matters because I like you!” Britain shouted, immediately freezing after the words left his mouth. He could hear them echoing around the silent room, ricocheting off the walls as if mocking him for admitting his feelings out loud.

Britain made the mistake of looking at America, seeing the utter shock clearly displayed on his features. The look on his face made Britain stagger backwards slightly, as if having received a blow to the gut.

“You what?” America asked in complete disbelief.

Britain could feel his heart wrenching in his chest, but he knew it was too late to keep his feelings to himself. He covered his face with his hands, feeling even more hot tears spring from his eyes. “I like you, America,” he whispered.

There was a sudden peal of laughter, then America’s arms were around Britain’s waist, lifting him up into the air and spinning him around as he hugged him. “Oh, Britain, this is great!” America laughed, still holding him.

“America, let me go! What are you talking about?” Britain asked in surprise and confusion, having clung to America for fear that he might drop him (America was known to be a little clumsy). He had his arms wrapped around his neck tightly, and it just made his heart ache to think that this might be the only time he’d get to do be this close to America.

He put Britain down gently but didn’t take his arms off him. “I like you, too,” he admitted as a giant grin overtook his face.

Britain leaned back - still not moving out of America’s arms though - and asked questioningly, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Britain. I like you. I _have_ liked you for a while now - I’ve just never had the courage to say it.” He gave Britain a sheepish smile. “Besides, I had no idea that you liked me too, else I would have told you _ages_ ago.”

“Pft, of course I like you,” Britain said, waving America’s disbelief aside easily. “A nation like yourself, I mean, what’s not to like?” America could see what he was doing - he was trying to lighten the mood, which was not only not Britain’s strong suit but which also seemed to mirror Britain’s own disbelief at the miraculousness of their situation.

“Well I’m glad you do like me, this makes this all the easier,” America smiled again, bringing Britain a little closer to him.

Britain, however, wouldn’t budge, a sudden look of suspicion flashing across his face. “But what about France? This doesn’t change what I saw -”

“I _don’t_ care about France - and I’ve said it a few times and I’ll say it again: _we did not kiss_. I got lost when I left with France - we split up almost immediately. I don’t know who France was making out with and I don’t care to find out.” America willed Britain to believe him, but he still saw a hint of doubt in his expression. So he was only left with one option. America had to prove it.

He took Britain’s face in his hands, and kissed him.

It was nothing like what Britain had seen - the kiss between France and what was now being proven to be _doppelganger_ America had been frantic and erratic, completely rough and seemingly driven by lust.

This...this was different. This was America’s lips coming to Britain’s softly, their touch feather light. This was achingly slow yet carried all the weight of the world. This was America softly running a thumb down his cheek, erasing any sign of the tears that’d been there moments before. This was Britain clinging to the front of America’s suit, clinging to his lips as if they were the oxygen he needed to breathe. This was ages of pent up emotions - love and care and jealousy and the occasional annoyance or two - this was all that and more.

But overall, this was what both of them had been yearning forever for.

Britain pulled away, glancing down, suddenly nervous and shy. America noticed and moved his hand beneath Britain’s chin, making him look up. “Britain, all of this - my kisses and affection, I’ve been saving for you. I’d rather fall as a nation than ever give away what my heart’s decided is yours.”

“I-I don’t know what to say,” Britain stuttered out, quickly looking away again when he saw the look America was giving him. “Stop looking at me like that,” he blushed. “You’re making my heart go all,” he made a shaky gesture with his hand, probably meant to show his erratic heartbeat. “It’s a miracle I haven’t had a heart attack yet.”

America grinned, moving in to kiss Britain’s temple. “So,” he grabbed one of Britain’s scraped palms, kissing one, “do you believe me,” then kissing the other one, “now?”

“I suppose so,” Britain mused, biting his lip in apparent thought. “But I mean, I could use a little more convincing…”

The smile playing on Britain’s lips was what gave away exactly what he wanted - and America was completely willing to oblige. They were so distracted kissing each other that they didn’t even notice the key that was being dropped in from a hole in the ceiling until it was dropped with a clatter to the ground.

They both jumped - Britain instinctively grabbing onto America as America glanced around nervously. The key gleamed on the ground, bringing their attention to it.

“It’s the key!” America exclaimed, quickly scooping it up from the ground.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Britain sighed. “Now we can get out of this nightmare.” They glanced around, suddenly unsure of what _exactly_ they were supposed to do with they key once they had it. A glowing outline on the wall gave them the answer. “Is that a door?” Britain asked.

“Seems like it,” America agreed, letting his hand drop to Britain’s side, taking his hand in his. Britain tried to keep his heart from thumping out of his chest from just the small fact that he was _holding hands_ with America. Jeez, he felt like a newly formed nation all over again.

A door that had been almost invisible in the dark seemed to be suddenly lit from within. America tried the knob, and when it wouldn’t budge, Britain took the key. “I think this,” he said, sliding it into the lock and turning it, hearing the responsive _click_ as the gears moved into place, “is what it’s for.”

“Makes sense,” America laughed, pushing the door open to see a trail of lit torches seemingly leading the way out through a narrow corridor. “Isn’t it funny though,” America began. “That we happened to find the key _after_ …” he squeezed Britain’s hand, “ _this_.”

Britain thought it over and shook his head. “Honestly, I think _this_ had to happen to find the key. I think this whole thing was just meant to get us to maybe, I dunno, admit how we felt?”

America seemed to like the idea. “Wow, they went through all this trouble just to get us to tell each other that we were madly in love. How romantic.”

“Don’t think I still won’t kick their ass for the charade they put on,” Britain grumbled.

“C’mon, they did help spur us along,” America said. “Can’t you go easy on them?”

“With a little convincing on your part, maybe,” Britain relented, hearing America’s laughter in response.

“That can be arranged,” he grinned.

They walked together through the corridor, following the torches, holding hands the whole way.

* * *

 

Germany was fairly certain that Italy had gotten to the top floor, so he quickly set about searching for him. He hoped he wasn’t cowering in some corner the way he’d been earlier after seeing Spain’s portrait. The thought of Italy being that upset made Germany’s heart squeeze in his chest.

“Italy!” he called out, waiting for a response. Seconds of silence elapsed as no answer came. He tried again. “Italy!”

Suddenly, an unusual sound reached Germany. They were musical notes - being played by a piano if he was not mistaken - and they were accompanied by a voice. Italy’s voice.

The sounds were muffled but unmistakable, and just loud enough for Germany to find his way towards Italy. He quietly pushed open the door, finding Italy seated at the edge of an elegant couch, eyes closed, his clear voice filling the room with its melody as it accompanied the piano’s piece - the piano itself could just barely be seen through a crack in the wood of the wall across from Italy.

“ _Tu sei il mio soldatino_ ,” he sang.

The words seemed strangely familiar, as if tugging at memories from long ago that were just out of reach for the mind to recall. Germany stood at the door, not wanting to disrupt Italy.

“ _La ragione per cui vivo_.”

Germany could _remember_ the piano piece. It was odd - sudden images of a manor began to flash through his mind.

_“Non ti scordar di me.”_

The song...he’d _heard_ the song before.

_“Io vegliero su di te.”_

He reached up to nervously pick at a white neckpiece that was no longer there.

_“Eri il mio soldatino.”_

 

Germany took a step towards Italy, knowing the song was winding to an end, and feeling the need to be by Italy’s side.

_“Ora un principe oscuro.”_

Italy heard him and glanced up, but otherwise didn’t stop singing. He reached for Germany as he got closer, taking Germany’s hands in his and pulling him to sit down by him.

_“Ma anche per te, c'e una luce.”_

The sudden onslaught of blurry, out of place memories were nothing compared to the one person that was clearly coming to his mind - a little girl, in a green dress. The sudden surge of affection he felt towards the girl was overwhelming, and when he looked at Italy again the feeling increased 10 fold. Germany decidedly put the girl out of his mind, knowing she was nothing but a far off dream, and focused completely on Italy He felt like it was getting slightly difficult to breathe as the song wound to a close, the final notes accompanying the last lines.

_“Che ad un'altra vita ti conduce.”_

Italy breathed them out like a prayer, closing his eyes as a stray tear raced down his cheek. Germany immediately wiped it away, meaning to pull his hand back quickly, but Italy leaned into the touch.

They didn’t speak for a few beats of silence, the song, although over, still lingering in the air.

“Why are you crying?” Germany gently asked, finally breaking the silence.

Italy thread his fingers through the hand Germany still had at his cheek, keeping him there. He kept his eyes closed, doing his best to remember the persistent boy in the black uniform that had stubbornly kept courting him until he’d fallen. He remembered his piercing blue eyes with such clarity that it pained him to acknowledge the centuries it’d been since he’d last seen him.

He opened his eyes to see startling blue eyes of the same shade staring right at him as Germany looked at him with worry. Italy smiled.

“I-I was, ah, just remembering an old friend.”

Germany nodded, giving Italy a small smile of his own, before looking away. He was quiet for a while - thoughtful. After a few seconds, he gave Italy’s hand a squeeze. “I recognize the song,” he said.

Italy looked at him in surprise. “Really?” he asked.

“ _Ja_ ,” Germany confirmed. He then shook his head. “I don’t know where I know it from, but I just _feel_ like I’ve heard it before.”

Italy digested the information, chewing his bottom lip before blurting out, “The last time I heard this was when I was a child.” Germany raised a questioning eyebrow, then motioned with his hand for Italy to continue. Italy sighed, pulling away from Germany only to reposition himself so that he could lean his head against Germany’s shoulder. He retook one of Germany’s hands between his own.

Germany had to fight the urge to wrap his arm around him - however, a small voice at the back of his mind whispered that that was where Italy belonged, wrapped in his arms. He pushed the voice farther back as Italy began talking again.

“Austria would play it on his piano for me all the time - it was one of the only piano pieces with words in Italian that he knew how to play.” He smiled, thinking back at how Austria would sit him beside him as he began to play, Hungary, with her hands at his shoulders, encouraging him to stumble through the song until he knew it by heart. His smile turned sad when he remembered those piercing blue eyes and the way they’d sparkle when he sang for him. “I used to sing it for my friend.”

He didn’t know why it seemed imperative for him to know, but Germany just couldn’t keep his curiosity at bay. “What happened to your friend?”

Italy’s grip on his hand tightened. “He died at war.”

A deep sigh that Germany had no idea he’d been holding escaped his lips. He put an arm around Italy. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Italy sniffled, relaxing as he melted into Germany’s embrace. “That was a long time ago and -” he turned to Germany, slightly surprised at how close they’d gotten. “And I know he wouldn’t want me to mourn him anymore,” he whispered. “I know he’d want me to be happy.”

 _I want you to be happy_ , a voice at the back Germany’s mind whispered back, ancient and full of love and longing, reflecting everything Germany felt for Italy.

“Are you happy?” Germany asked, feeling himself drawing inexplicably nearer to Italy.

“When I’m with you, I am,” Italy answered, his breath ghosting across Germany’s face.

They closed the distance between them.

It happened so suddenly - yet not at all. It was as if centuries of emotions were being brought to fruition right at that moment, a chorus of feelings finally harmonizing to become a melodious symphony. Germany was gentle and slow, Italy soft and warm. The kiss and the touches that came with it - the feel of Germany’s arms holding Italy close and of Italy’s hands running through his hair, the slight bump of their noses as they readjusted their position - all of it, just seemed so familiar, yet so new. Germany could stay like this for eons, just Italy and him, and he would be more than happy. Italy couldn’t think of any other way to spend the rest of the eons, after having discovered his own little paradise right there with Germany.

Germany pulled away first. “I love you so much, Italy,” he whispered.

Italy felt so happy he could sob. “Germany, I love you, too.” He hugged Germany to him tightly, closing his eyes as he remembered the boy with the black uniform and piercing blue eyes one last time.

 _I love you, Holy Rome_ , he thought, _but I have grown to love Germany more. He is my one and only now._

He pulled back to see Germany give him a giant smile.

_You know, he reminds me of you sometimes._

Germany pulled him in for another kiss, and with that, he put Holy Rome’s memory to rest.

They stayed like that, basking in each other’s presence, until they heard the clatter of a key. Germany glanced at the source of the noise, finding the skeleton key that they’d been searching for all night.

“I guess ve have finally found our way out,” Germany smiled.

Italy nodded enthusiastically, as they both got up from the couch, his fingers threaded through Germany’s. “I can’t wait to get out of here - I don’t want our brothers scaring us again.”

He picked up the key and looked around, not sure where he was supposed to use the key. Then he noticed a door that he had seen with the dim lighting, since it seemed to be illuminated from behind. He slid the key into the lock and opened the door quickly. Torches lined the walls of the room they entered, leading into a corridor which would probably get them out of the house.

A grand piano lay in the center of the room. Italy cocked his head to the side. “This is Austria’s,” he said. Then his eyes widened. “Oh, oh no! Y-you don’t think - you don’t think Austria could be dead, do you?”

Germany laughed, “Of course not - this just means that he was helping Spain and Prussia scare us.”

“That’s good,” Italy beamed, then stopped. “Well, the whole ‘Austria being alive’ is good - that he was helping our brothers scare us was mean.”

“I think,” Germany began, “that this entire haunted house was just a big plan to get us together.” Germany hated to admit his next sentiment out loud. “So, I think we may owe them some thanks.”

Italy thought it over, then grinned again. “Well then, I’ll make sure I give them all a big hug!” He then wrapped his arms around Germany, “They gave me my own knight in shining armor today!” Italy began to play with the straps of Germany’s sword, “And you even come with a sword!”

“And they gave me my own little chef,” Germany smiled, leaning down to give Italy a quick kiss. “I’m planning on taking him home.”

“Germany!” Italy blushed, not necessarily used to him being so forward. “I’m already going home with you! You don’t need to say that!”

“I’m just happy,” Germany admitted with honesty. “And it’s not like we have to make any new arrangements with each other - you already sleep with me.”

“Well maybe we’ll just have to arrange the amount of clothes we go to sleep in,” Italy cheekily suggested.

It was Germany’s turn to get bright pink. He was used to Italy being forward, just not used to the _implications_ of it. “Th-then let’s get going,” he stuttered out, taking Italy’s hand as they went into the corridor.

* * *

 

Halloween had been a total success. The 11 countries made their way back to America’s place where his party was still in full swing - Italy and Germany holding hands whilst Britain and America kept stealing kisses from one another.

“So it was _you_ that was kissing France?” Britain asked Switzerland.

He nodded. “They apparently thought that a _jealousy induced_ confession would work best for you,” he explained.

“Well that explains why the laughter didn't match up and the paler blonde hair,” Britain mused.

“Oh and did it work,” America teased, interrupting Britain’s train of thought. Britain playfully elbowed him in the ribs before starting to run down the street, America quickly giving chase.

“Wait you did _what_ to Switzerland?” Austria spluttered out, cutting his conversation with Germany and Italy about his piano playing short.

France turned towards him. “I kissed him.” He shrugged. “And he’s a really good kisser too.”

Switzerland turned scarlet. “Well, I mean you orchestrated that whole affair, so there’s no need to give me any credit-”

“No need to give you any credit?” France began, looping an over his shoulder. He turned to Prussia and Austria, “You should see the wonders this Swiss does with this tongue - it is truly a religious experience.”

“You didn’t tell me you two _kissed_?” Austria asked Switzerland.

“I didn’t think it mattered,” Switzerland answered, disentangling himself from France as he and Austria began to bicker and argue.

“Wow, they’re like an old married couple,” Prussia observed.

“That, they are,” France agreed.

Prussia turned to Germany and Italy, “Kinda like West and little Italy over there.”

Italy blushed while Germany only rolled his eyes. “Haha, yes brother, we are just like a married couple. Living in the same home, sleeping in the same bed - the works. Tell me,” Germany smiled mischievously, “where is your Italian?”

“I-I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Prussia denied, feigning ignorance.

“Mmhm,” Germany grinned, kissing Italy’s temple before whispering something into his ear. Italy’s eyes go comically wide.

“Oh, Prussia!” he gushed. “I didn’t know you liked _Romano!_ ” Prussia began to shake his head as Italy continued. “I could talk to him, you know.”

“I don’t like Romano,” Prussia sniffed. “He’s just a cool guy. One of the bros.”

“Yeah, right,” Germany laughed as Italy began singing _“Prussia and Romano sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g -”_

_“West, I do not like him -”_

France then joined Italy as they sang _“First comes love, then comes marriage-”_

Spain, Russia, and Japan watched all of them joking and laughing - America and Britain still running after each other, Austria and Switzerland bickering, and France and Germany and Italy teasing Prussia.

Japan smiled, “So I take it this whole match-making isn’t over, is it?”

_“Then comes a nation in a baby carriage!”_

“Nope,” Spain answered. “I know my little Romano and Prussia are next on the list, but I’m not sure who else…”

Russia nodded ahead of them. “Austria and Switzerland.”

Spain gave him a quizzical look before turning his attention to the aforementioned couple. “Really, now?”

“Yup,” Russia began. “They have a lot of, how do you say, tension, that needs to be resolved.”

The three observed the pair for a while longer, watching their interaction. Russia was right, there did seem to be tension there…

“I ship it,” Japan said.

Spain and Russia both turned to him questioningly.

“What? Have you never been on the internet?” When neither of them answered Japan explained, “It is internet slang for ‘I wish them to be in a relationship.’ So you ship it.”

“Ah,” Russia nodded in understanding. “Then I ship it.”

“Me too!” Spain added happily. He looked at both of them, “We really should start to plan how we’ll get these two couples together. I’m thinking maybe -”

Suddenly a loud, bloodcurdling scream rang from the end of the street, right in America’s driveway.

“ _Husband!_ ” Belarus shrieked. “It was not nice of you to leave me!”

Russia immediately turned pale. “We’ll have to make those plans another time,” he said, quickly running back down the way they’d come, Belarus in hot pursuit. The Baltics all lay in various degrees of disarray in America’s front yard.

When the group got to them, Lithuania sat up. “Belarus,” he said, “is nuts.”

“For Russia, apparently,” Britain commented, watching as Belarus tried to climb the tree that Russia clambered up.

“Just like I am for you,” America grinned, ducking down to give Britain a kiss.

“Go get a room,” France catcalled, laughing when Britain turned around to stick his tongue out at him, only to then turn right back to America and start making out on the front lawn.

“Uh, what did we miss?” Estonia asked.

“Not much,” Prussia shrugged. “Just a couple of losers finally coming to terms with their feelings.”

Germany leaned his cheek against Italy’s head. “I take offense to that, brother,” he joked.

Prussia rolled his eyes. “Come on,” he helped Latvia to his feet, “let’s get inside before West begins to imitate America and Britain and they start getting frisky.”

“Well, if it’s not being frowned upon so badly…” Germany smiled, leaning down to give Italy a kiss. Italy surged forward on his tippy toes, wrapping his arms around Germany’s neck.

This Halloween was definitely the best the countries had seen in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, before anything else, the song Italy sings is "Soldatino" by Paola Bennet. It's a great song, inspired my Rick Riordan's Nico di Angelo from the Percy Jackson and Heroes of Olympus series. I know that since the song is modern it doesn't fit the time period in which Italy sang it in his childhood, but cut me some slack. It's a beautiful song and I felt that it was kinda fitting.
> 
> This was so much fun to write! I know it was probably super cliched and there was so much running and shit that the characters went through - all in all though, I really do hope you guys liked it! Thanks for reading and happy scaring!

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of an explanatory chapter of sorts - things will get more interesting as the story progresses, I promise. I do hope you guys like the fic, so far though!


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